I'm sorry for the way I say I love you. I know this kind of talk is far too soon. I cannot stop myself; I just adore you. And so this truth pronounces its own doom. But when a truth betrays itself, I wonder: Could it be that such a truth be true? Or could the sweet compulsion that I'm under Be caused in part by ignorance of you? I know only the truth of what I feel, Which lies beneath all sanity or rule. My love for you is deep and rich and real, Though it may be I simply am a fool. Time will tell the truth, for if you do
I look at you and think: I cannot live Without you; you're the person of my dreams. Of course I know I can, but I must give My heart room to tell it as it seems. Romance must have a language fit for feeling More than fits between the earth and sky. For love there cannot be a floor or ceiling: My love goes down too deep and flies too high. So when I say I cannot live without you, Know I can't imagine so much pain; And when I claim to always dream about you, Well, know the moon is happy once again. The sun reveals cold truths for all to see,
salam miss romantic kuri how ru.i m Muhammad Irshad from spain n i wanna talk to u if u don,t mind can we talk on the msn or yahoo. decent_b0y1@yahoo.com irshad_zaheer_007@hotmail.com
Just wanted you to know: I love you. Months have passed since we became close friends. Every day I find I'm thinking of you, Though no word from you that message sends. And yet we share all other thoughts and feelings: I cannot wait to tell you of my day, And you give me the gist of all your dealings, Which makes me hope we walk in the same way. Telling you this is opening a door That never can be closed again, and yet I must, because I ache for something more, Something that I must risk all to get. Some night, perhaps, we'll go hang out somewhere;
I'm far too shy to tell you that I love you. You're a star far from my plain earth. I gaze and see no woman who's above you: To me you are the cynosure of worth. Yet with all your beauty you're a person Like me in need of sympathy and love. Your thoughts of me would not, I dare hope, worsen If I in some way tried your heart to move. There's pleasure, surely, drawn from the reflection That someone, somewhere, worships your sweet face, Thinks you are the summit of perfection, Wants nothing more of life than your embrace. The danger is you'll think it couldn't be;
Let me be the bandage for your bleeding; Let me be the ocean for your tears. Let me be the secret of your healing; Let me be the song to still your fears.
Love isn't love that cannot love in darkness, Nor is it love that turns away from pain; Nor would I love would I not hold your sadness And with my love your love of life sustain.
So do not think your malady a burden, And do not think my willingness deceit. Just let your sorrow flow into my garden,